From the archives: Cooler culture

[It's Friday and it seems like a good day for something offbeat, as opposed to the really heavy policy-laden fare that is the norm around here. So here's another Rough Draft column that I wrote for washingtonpost.com. Like the others I've resurrected, it never ran in print and then vanished from the Web for various complex reasons. This one ran June 8, 2001.]

To the editor:

I want to share a story about my 94-quart Igloo Legend, but first I want to thank all of you at Ice Chest & Beverage for your efforts to defend the rights of American cooler owners. I love your magazine! I've been a faithful and enthusiastic reader of IC&B since I was 12 years old and came across a stack of old issues in my Dad's garage. (Dad was the proud owner of a vintage 1954 Coleman and kept a centerfold of the '57 right above his tool bench.)

It goes without saying that these are hard times for cooler culture. We're seeing police harassment in public parks, even when beers remain unopened. We're seeing the market flooded with cheap, poorly insulated foreign coolers. We're seeing an epidemic of hollow ice cubes that melt within seconds. Worst of all, we're seeing ignorance among young people about the important role of the cooler and of ice-chilled beverages in American history.

Just last week an acquaintance said to me, "Isn't a cooler just a way to keep a drink cold or sandwiches fresh?" I was speechless. What do you say to that kind of stupidity? I just walked away.

My friends and I are not paranoid -- we're normal law-abiding citizens with good jobs and families -- but we do feel that cooler culture is being undermined by a cultural elite of city-slickers who wouldn't know a Coleman PowerChill Plus 40-Quart Thermoelectric cooler from an Igloo SixPacker. These people don't know how to pack a cooler, and routinely use too little ice. If this kind of thing goes on unchecked, our grandkids will never experience the thrill of reaching into a cooler on a blazing summer day and fishing out a brewski so cold it's hard to believe it's not frozen. Along those lines, your magazine's educational outreach program in elementary schools is particularly commendable.

So here's my story. I was bass fishing with my buddy Ralphie, who everyone calls Spud, because of his shape. Spud is a Coleman man. I've seen him pick fights with Igloo guys -- it's possible that Spud takes the whole cooler-culture thing a little too seriously (let's face it, such types do exist). Anyway, Spud is a good man, but he's had some domestic issues in recent years, some contretemps as they say, and when you hang out with Spud you never know what kind of trouble might pop up. On this particular day our fishing reverie was broken by the sound of something moving in the bushes along the shore of the lake. We saw nothing. Then we heard it again. "A deer," guessed Spud. But somehow I got a bad feeling. The omen was confirmed by the sudden, unmistakable whizzing of a bullet through the air.

"Get behind Betty!" I screamed.

Betty is what I call my 94-quart Igloo Legend. She'll never be quite as dear to me as LuAnn, my 100-quart Coleman that stood with me through two divorces, eight jobs, some long stretches of unemployment and one brief incarceration for something of which I was completely innocent, but I lost LuAnn in the third divorce -- someday I'll tell you a story about an incompetent lawyer that will make your hair stand on end -- and so now it's just me and Betty. When the bullets started flying, the idea of getting behind her polyurethane shield was pure animal instinct.

"Who's shooting at us?" I asked Spud.

He ventured a couple of theories, and I don't want to get into too many details, because I don't want to embarrass Spud or his wife or any of his girlfriends. To make a long story short, the Igloo was suddenly struck flush by a bullet. The cooler lurched violently against our crouched bodies. Police later found a .22 slug from a squirrel gun inside the cooler, along with a severely dented can of Pabst Blue Ribbon. I don't know how to put it any more simply: This cooler saved our lives!

That was a scary day, but I'm pleased to report that Spud and his wife are now in counseling. Here's the part that blows my mind: Two days after the little incident with the gunfire, I met up with Spud at the bait shop. We realized that, in all the excitement, we'd forgotten all about Betty, who was still in the back of my pickup, wounded, punctured. I ran to her, opened her up, and saw a wondrous sight: There was still ice in the bottom. The beers were still cold!

If the cooler is really good, you can have Pabst Blue Ribbon slushies.

We have two big coolers, a medium-size one, and two little ones, a combination of Igloo and Coleman. I don't know why we have so many. They accumulate, or breed out in the shop, or something. I think the squirrels use them for their riotous parties. Squirrel Party Central, that's our shop, coolers and cardboard generously supplied by clueless humans.

Ah, PBR's fine, but back in the day it was Olympia (at $3.99 a case, if you knew where to look), and Natty Bo.

All went well with old-school green metal Coleman coolers. Which also served as workbenches for futzing with fishing tackle and cutting boards for bait and fish. And camping barbecue prep, too - hot dogs, hamburgers, cold cuts, etc. Plus, all the rock band and sports bumper stickers that I didn't want to put on my car or guitar case.

Now that I think about it, it's amazing that I didn't die from some sort of horrific infection. The top of that cooler must have been like a giant petri dish, occasionally washed down only by beer, vodka, gin, the Shanandoah, the Potomac, Deep Creek Lake, Lake Needwood, Lake Anna and the Chesapeake. Oy.

AMF stands for a two word phrase. The first word is "adios". I leave it to your imagination to figure out the MF word. This was current when i graduated from high school in 1966. I have heard it many times since.

The only cooler worth having is the Coleman Classic 54 qt Stainless Steel. Archeologists will be digging those out of the rubble in a thousand years and wondering why this culture made only one truly durable thing.

Never was a PBR guy. When I was ten, at my uncle's wedding everybody was drinking Schlitz Black Label. That imprinted it in my mind as a premium beer for only the fanciest occasions. My opinion was confirmed because I never saw it in the grocery stores which meant it had to be rare and hard to find.

In high school the official beer of the Social Studies Club was Busch. Our fondness for it was based on a bad pun that used our Model United Nations acronym. That and it was cheap.

Surprisingly, though, I don't remember it. This seems odd as it is both funny (it is so embarrassing when I laugh out loud at work) and features a topic close to my heart. (As it doubtless is to right-thinking folk everywhere.)

Back when my in-laws lived up in Lancaster County, they would hold frequent pool parties. My job was to load the cooler with bottles of beer as well as cans of soft drinks for the kids. This special job made me feel useful while keeping me away from the food and the sharp knives.

As the party went on it became harder and harder to find the Yuengling amongst the Mountain Dew. You had to reach deep into the icy water and reach around desperately until your hypothermic fingers eventually, gratefully, found the smooth soothing shape of a bottle.

Towards the end of the party I had to balance my desire for a cold beer with the risk of frostbite. But heck, who really needs all those fingers?

But those days are long gone. Indeed, the parties peaked about the same time Joel wrote this column.

On Saturday, at Wiley's Barbecue in Savannah, there was a bit of a wait for a table, but they brought me out a PBR 24-ounce tall boy right there on the sidewalk. Only two bucks. Sometime I do miss the South!

Wait a minute. Schlitz Black Label??? Not Carling Black Label? Don't you remember "Hey, Mable. Black Label"? Carling once had a brewery just off the Baltimore Beltway in what I believe is called Hanover. I think the Natty Bo brewery was over near Highlandtown.

Wow bc, I never realized that you could buy Oly outside of the Pacific Northwest. It, along with Rainier (aka Vitamin R) were the popular local beers.

Because I was one of *those* kids, I never drank beer until I was in college. And even then I never really developed a taste for domestic beers. Give me a Guinness or a Moosehead and I was a happy lad. (Although I did like this stuff called Killian's Irish Red, which, despite the name, was produced by Coors. Surprising really, since regular Coors was popularly known as the blue leisure suit of beers. But I digress.)

Of course, my aversion to domestic beers changed when I discovered microbrewery beers. That and Yuengling.

Ah, PBR-haven't had one on purpose since reaching drinking age. But my favorite kinds of beer are cold and free and PBR often gets left behind in our vacation rental. I have been known to forgive excess cleaning charges for leaving food behind in the fridge if the beer haul outweighs the hassle of throwing the food out.

I was cooler shopping just yesterday. Opted for a Coleman 9 can picnic type thing-soft sided so not so useful in a firearms situation. Better than the knock-offs as it was the only design that allows room for enough ice in addition to the 9 cans.

Tampa was an Anheuser-Busch town, what with Busch Gardens and all. There was a Schlitz brewery as well, but it didn't have a factory tour with a parrot show and a monorail through the African veldt ending at the Swiss Treehouse Restaurant.

That Schlitz brewery made Strohs for a while but is now a Yuengling plant, staking out a beachhead for America's oldest brewery amongst the elderly citizens that can remember the founding of the brand.

"More motorcyclists were killed in crashes in 2008 than in any year since the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration began collecting fatal crash data in 1975. In contrast, at 25,428, fewer passenger vehicle occupants died in crashes in 2008 than in any year in this time period."

Mudge, you are absolutely correct, sir.

Shall we reprise this discussion when the 2009 national figures are available? They should be out soon, don't you think?

Thank you for the opportunity though to bring motorcycling in its countercultural aspects into the open.

Let's make hunting vests that are also beer coolers (now that I think about it, they are probably already available).
Squirrels are like rabbits, are they food, vermin or pets. Are they cute furry friends, or just tree rats?
Oh oh. 6.2 earthquake in Northern Chile at 10:52 EDT.

Oly and Coors had the best cans for beer can hats circa 1975. Easier to cut and get a hole punch through for crocheting panels together, also readily available in Okinawa as AAFES priced both cheaper than pop.

Squirrels are not like rabbits. Squirrels are, at heart, rodents. Rats with tails. Rabbits can be companionable. A companionable squirrel is creepy.

It is interesting how emotion and circumstance influence beer preference. In college we drank a lot of Lone Star. It wasn't particularly good but was no worse than generic beers, local and cheap. For whatever reason Lone Star was apparently unavailable in Boston in the early Eighties - or if it was there the Texas guys in the Texas Club never figured out where to buy it. Once or twice a year the Texas Club would throw a party and they'd make a beer run down to the NYC area - to fill their vehicles with Lone Star.

Each year in Cooksville, AUS they celebrate a James Cook day. And of course, celebrations would not be replete without an Eski race. Will leave that to your imagination... i.e. Eski strapped to a lawn mower etc. Only in Australia.

I once scurried through Edinburgh, doing the sights in just 4 hours. Speed tourism. The shopping mall thing at the rail station had fast haggis and Lone Star. The latter must have been from the oil boom.

The sinking of a South Korean navy ship (58 of some 100 crew reported safe) looks like the making of a mess. The US commander for Korea warned a House committee on Wednesday that preparation for a collapse of the N Korea regime was urgent. NK, in response to the notion of a quickie SK and perhaps Chinese invasion in case of collapse, has been threatening to nuke SK, while at the same time eagerly inviting SK NGOs to send representatives to NK to arrange aid donations.

Yello, I agree - Busch was the commonly available alternative to Coors here in the East.

Miss Toronto, you'd be amazed what people will race -- worldwide. Done a fair amount of it myself. Austrailia- and New Zealand - are noted for their motorized mirth. Eski racing sounds like fun to me.

All of a sudden, I'm hearing the '60's-era Colt 45 comercial with the whistling and a guy in a tuxedo sitting in the middle of the ocean (or was it the Inner Harbor?) in a life raft, pouring himself a cold one. Ah, Baltimore.

I can remember a few regional beers but I have no idea if they are still in production. Hamm's- "from the land of sky blue waters", Jax and Jax Draft - “Bartender are you making fun of me?” “No I'm making fun of her.” Dixie Beer, Lucky Lager, Narragansett, Pearl.

These days I drink, depending on circumstances and availability, La Fin du Mond, Yuengling, Stella Artois, Otter Creek, Blue Moon, and Corona at a pinch. In other words, whatever's cold and wet. I have my standards, they're pretty low, but I have them.

Announcing the newly-formed MsJS4Justice, an independent political organization that will be able to solicit campaign contributions from individuals in unlimited amounts to support various candidates or platforms in the upcoming elections.

When I was stationed in Iceland (Land of Fire and Ice, as recent events have shown!), we had beer vending machines in the barracks. 50 cents a pop, as I recall. We would get several cans at one time, and set them outside on the widow sill so they'd stay cold. Needed to keep the stock up, since the machines often sold out before restocking. Almost made being the Navy tolerable.

I'm still trying to figure out why certain names just sound, quite unfairly of course, a bit more, well, consistent with Cooler Culture than some. I dunno. I think it has to do with undo emphasis on the first syllable.

In LA the local cheap beer was Brew 102. When the freeway was being cut through downtown they held out for too much money, and the road simply bent around them; they were shortly out of business. Also Lucky Lager ("it's age-dated") which I believe was from SF. More exotic still from the West were Oly and Ranier and Coors. Coors had such a good business -- sold lots to their loyal fans, no advertising required -- until they took on the union and lost many fans. Frank's in Riverside, where I pulled beer for the drivers from the nearby warehouses plus the UCR English, Math and Geography departments 6 pm-2am three nights a week while in college, switched to Bud.

Sierra Madre
Our West Coast-style pale is hopped with Cascade hops which yield a refreshing citrus aroma and hop flavor.

Private I.P.A.
India Pale Ale with great hop bitterness

Porteroy
An English-style Brown Porter. Rich brown appearance with chestnut hues this porter is rich in caramel malt with notes of chocolate and roasted goodness. A generous hopping adds a touch of bitterness to balance the sweetness making this a nice session ale.

Golden Opportunity
A Belgian-style golden ale, light in body with aromas of fruit. It’s slightly sweet with a delicious finish.

I've seen tackle boxes that could fit an 18 pack. Or maybe they were just coolers that had compartments for a dozen lures and a bag of rubber worms. Whatever the case, I've met 2 types of fishermen: Those that drink as they fish, and those that fish as they drink.

when i lived in LA - over 10 years ago - lucky lager was the brew of choice. same price for a 12 pack of stubby bottels as a sixer of normal stuff. AND they had jokes under the cap - which just got funnier the more lucky lager you drank!

when i first moved to lala land i had to pass a brewery every day to get too and from work (anheiser-busch i believe). the smell of fermenting hops is not a pleasant smell, esp first thing in the morning!

and mom and i still use the same powder blue coleman cooler with the white lid and bottle opener on the side that we've used since i was approx 5 years old (which would make it approx 33 yrs... give or take)... them new fangled coolers don't come with bottle openers on the side anymore... what's this world coming to?

Mo,
One of my jobs as a college co-op was to go buy beer for the office on Friday afternoons. We would always get a six pack of pony bottles for the secretaries of low body weight that had a long drive home.

Amazing how coolers last, the Geekdottir has the little red Igloo I bought over 30 years ago. The one we use the most nowadays is the soft-sided one Mr. T bought at Costco several years ago. It's on wheels and has an expanding handle so it's an insulated rollaboard.

Happy to be home, although I was glad to be helpful with the kids while my brother had his surgery. We got him home at lunchtime, his arm in a sling and the painkillers on the kitchen counter. He's not looking forward to physical therapy.

From being with him in the hospital yesterday and today, I've come to the conclusion that flexible plastic tubing makes modern medicine possible.

Big traffic alert: apparently huge accident on the Beltway going south at 123. I know that because I was stuck in it trying to get to Dulles to drop off my houseguest. Instead of three hours ahead of time for an international flight, we finally got there with barely 90 minutes to spare. I haven't heard from him yet, so I suspect he'll be on his way back to Zambia via Jo'berg.

We had a lovely time. He brought be a very sweet copper plate (copper is a big resource of Zambia) with two lion cubs etched on it and "ZAMBIA" etched under them.

I'm exhausted. Generally don't like driving on the Beltway under normal circumstances. Yep, I need one o' them massages. Too tired to go get one.

We in these here parts are supposed to wake up to a temperature of 28 degrees in the morning. Mother Nature's taking her mood swings to yet another level. Hope all the flowers and blossoms don't turn blue all of a sudden (unless, of course, they're supposed to).

Plzeňský Prazdroj is best known as Pilsner Urquell but I believe it to actually be a lager. I like it.

Like Beck's but not Heineken (these are considered pilseners).

Yuengling is a fave of mine. "First brewery to restart production after prohibition was repealed". Used a time machine to have it finished so as to send a truckload of 'Winner Beer' to Roosevelt the day of repeal.

Not a big fan of IPAa.

Like brown ales. But, had Brooklyn Brown once, thought it tasted like what I imagine the East River tastes like though. didn't like

Obscure faves also include Old Peculiar, Whitbread (an English Pale Ale (not an IPA?)), and Thames Welsh ESB.

Love English ales but don't care for Bass.

one of my favorite beer labels:

http://justbeer.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/thames-welsh-esb.gif

Having established my elitist beer cred, If someone puts a cold Bud in my hand I'll drink. I have standards too, but I'll lower them if the occasion calls for it.

Seems that PBR is the new hipster beer. They say because it's "ironic" but I think it's mainly because it's "cheap."

Someone recently told the story of how Busch beer came about. (Could have been Dr G, whose dad was an advertising man for A-B for his entire career)

Seems that they wanted to name the new baseball stadium in St Louis "Budweiser Stadium," but the city wouldn't name the place after a beer. So they named it Busch Stadium and then introduced Busch beer.

You are so right Wilbrod. Incredible amount of on-Kit comments here. Even when I drank I never developed a taste for beer. When I did drink it, I spent a lot more time in the ladies room than I did for an equal amount of any other alcoholic beverage. And I could never drink more than two cans/bottles without wanting to just go to sleep.

But coolers are good, I like coolers for soft drinks and food! And they come in pretty colors too!

In the non-alcoholic arena, I'm fond of ginger beers. Our local wine shop had some Barritt's Bahama Ginger Beer which reminded me that I had an unfinished bottle of Gosling Black Seal rum. I predict Dark and Stormys for the rest of the evening. Although if you pour the ginger beer too fast, it's more like a dark and foamy.

A beer spritzer! I remember having a shanty once when young beer and ginger ale? I haven't had once since so I am thinking I didn't enjoy it much. I have always liked beer but it gives me headaches so do not drink often and only when I think it won't give me a headache (weather related).

Best to not think about all the different brews I've had in my life (and CQP, I've had several of those at Franklin's - that Porteroy is practically liquid dessert), .

I do enjoy beer and other adult beverages, but not as much as the people I'm sharing it with.

Don't really have anything useful to say about Gil Arenas' sentencing or this Duke / Purdue game either. Duke winning may help out my what's left of my bracket, but mainly to keep me from finishing last.

I correctly picked five of the Elite Eight (the Midwest region is just a write-off). Over the past two days my bracket has gone from 38th out of 126 to 10th. It's pretty crucial that Duke beat West Virginia for me to end in the money, so I am all about Blue Devils and Mountaineers as much as it pains me to do so.

Cedar Falls isn't even all that far north. Some sketchy geography going on in the Hawkeye State. Iowa and Nebraska are the donut hole in my map of states I have visited. I just need a compelling reason to find my way there. Perhaps one year I will enter RAGBRAI and knock it out.

We had frost on the rooftops this morning. I hope that's the last of freezing weather, but it's always possible for about another three weeks.

This afternoon, Mr. T wants to go to an exhibition basketball game to watch the son of a colleague. This kid is 7'1" and would love to play for Carolina, but he's a slow white boy. Still, we'll see who offers him a scholarship.

yello, methinks if you'd actually wanted to tour Iowa you probably would have visited already.

Actually, Iowa is quite happy to remain flyover territory. Every four years (during the Iowa caucuses) the coasts seem so shocked to find Iowa's an understated but interesting and fun place. IIRC, Maureen Dowd was particularly amazed last time around.

I haven't been to Nebraska in over 35 years, but BroJS was just in Omaha. Didn't say anything bad, but didn't say anything flattering, either.

Hey...for what it's worth, I have noticed a change in how you argue, and I know that's taken effort on your part. I hope that if you are thinking about how things went down, thoughts are congealing and not banging around in your head like a game of pong on acid.

I'm off to do something a tad risky; I'm mostly confident I can avoid the pitfalls, if only I spot them in time.

There are several kinds of fizzy water. "Soda water" has bicarbonate of soda added. Technically "Seltzer water" is the same as "sparkling water" which is only CO2 dissolved in water, nothing else. I suspect some of the discount bottlers may not even know so I read the label and try to call each by its strict definition.

Cool today. Furnace back on.

My friend was assured by the newspaper the buyout enabled unemployment insurance. But for some reason the state won't grant it. Grr.

LiT writes:
Hey...for what it's worth, I have noticed a change in how you argue, and I know that's taken effort on your part. I hope that if you are thinking about how things went down, thoughts are congealing and not banging around in your head like a game of pong on acid.
***

I do know that you folks earwig a great deal. This is without question, I believe.

And without anyone named (so careless) in LiT's post above--no name mentioned in the direct address of the second-person singular of "you"--I can only assume that the post is directed at Curmudgeon. Because anyone who reads so broadly and on such a variety of subjects, and so frequently, someone who reads a newspaper (one if not several) daily, someone who has a journalism background, will be able to tap a variety of subjects at his command and will have a brain in which thoughts bang around in his head like a game of pong on acid.

Supposed to be in the low 80s here today. A survey of the back yard yesterday shows that many bushes did not survive the one or two nights of deep freeze. These are sending up growth from the roots, so all the dead growth must be pruned away. Took hours in the yard yesterday, with more required today and probably the next day.

I found that Iceland has a webcam focused on this week's erupting, sometimes quiet, sometimes sleeping, volcano. Some still color photos from the past week have been spectacular. McPhee does an outstanding job of describing a volcanic eruption, the flow, the dangers, in Iceland in 1973, the long essay contained in his "Control of Nature." And Chile and the Phillipines with strong quakes also during this past week. Interesting, too, that McPhee states that Iceland has absolutely no limestone. Why should it? *l* McPhee exerts over me some strange magnetic force: the more I read his works, the more I want to read.

Morning boodle! Have some great organic granola from Our Fair County's #1 independent coffee shop. Odds were against this vegetarian soup serving establishment without the ubiquitous "Welcome Hunters" vinyl sign strung up somewhere on the premises. But they are thriving, and not just because the area's only yoga studio is across the street.

A long day of leaf raking ahead. An acre of lawn seems like such a good idea most of the time, just not now.

It is indeed a wee bit chilly out, but gorgeous nonetheless. The bikers are out in almost full force, but not as much traffic as I would expect on a Saturday morning. Not that I'm complaining.

Nice to see the forsythia, the daffies, natch, and I even saw some hyacinths. I seem to miss those, as the season is so short for them and unless you catch them you miss them and have to wait for yet another year. Looking forward to the tulips and irises.

I've been around airplanes all my life, flown on commerical and private aircraft, have friends who are line mechanics, and even built working scale model airplanes -- but I wouldn't claim to be a pilot.

Well, you're on the money, Loomis-- the inside of my brain really does resemble a game of pong on acid. Sometimes I even have yell upstairs, "Will you guys cut that ---- out!"

Just came in from fertilizing the entire yard-- half a 42-pound bag of Scott's super something-or-other. Also bought a brand new spreader with all the bells and whistles, since the old one died last week when I put down a bag of lime.

And in honor of Passover Monday, I've got a 4-lb. brisket in the oven, though we'll probably eat it tomorrow rather than Monday. (A proper brisket, according to Jewish lore, should be cooked two or three days ahead of time, and then re-heated. I haven't decided on whether to try my first ever matzoh ball soup. The thing is, even if I succeed, what I'm left with is...a giant matzoh ball in some chicken broth. It's like second prize is two servings of matzoh ball soup.)

Took the day off work yesterday to take my wife to Shady Grove hospital for 6 arthroscopic "rhizotomies" -- little tinyincisions where they literally burn your nerves to eliminate back back. She had this done six years ago on her L1 and L2, and now her L3, L4 and L5 discs have gone, so it was time to do a pain block (all other treatments such as steroids having failed). It was in-and-out surgery, and the neurosurgeon's part of the job literally only took 5 minutes. But we left the house at 8 a.m. to get there at 9:30 for a procedure scheduled for 11 that began at 1:55. Got home at 7 after transitting the beltway in fullblown rush hour.

Now the crazy woman is still out there weeding and bending over and picking up things she couldn't two days ago, etc. And despite sixteen pleas to take it easy, she won't satop and won't come in, and tonight she's gonna be pissing and moaning about her back still hurting.

Shortly, I'm going to a farewell potluck for a buddy. While I'm just taking an innocuous fruit salad and a bottle of barbecue sauce from Savannah, it appears that dietary laws will be broken (and stomachs will be burst) by those that attempt to sample everything:

Well, EYE am making matzoh ball soup; made the broth this morning, and will start the matzoh mix tomorrow evening in time for the first Seder with my friends Laura and Sam. I think they are a little embarrassed that they've asked a goy to make the soup, but all of know its a winner. Fortunately, they don't keep strictly kosher, so it is OK for me to make a contribution.

Bring a large saucepan of salted water to a boil.
Add the beans and blanch until just crisp, but tender, no more than 5 minutes. Don’t overcook!

Pour into a colander and drain the beans and run under cold water to cool. Drain completely.

Place beans in a large bowl, red onion, radishes, and cilantro toss with the dressing.
Refrigerate and let sit for an hour.

When ready to serve, place the green beans on the center of a platter sprinkle the Feta cheese over the top, and serve with the avocado slices and tomatoes on the side, drizzling the liquid from the bowl over top of everything.

Just put two meat loafs in the oven a little while ago, one for tonight, one for whenever in the future.

Good Colby King piece on TPers at http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/03/26/AR2010032603335.html?hpid=opinionsbox1

And do you think both Sinead O'Connor AND the WaPo are trying to ractchet up readership with this head: "Maybe God needs a girlfriend." No, that's not gonna stir anybody up.

And Jim Wallis thinks the way to respond to idiot Glenn Beck isn't to attack Beck but to pray for him. Prayer being so remarkably effective in changing the behavior of so many other morons. Wallis says if you attack Beck, he'll simply retaliate and blast you with a week of shows about how commie pinko you are. Way to stand up to him, Jim.

Hey, Yoki! How 'bout my Red Wings, eh? Peaking at just the right time! Of course, it gets a little rough having to use crutches and walkers on the ice (Niklas Lidström is about to turn 40, after all (I remember when I thought that was old; that is, I *vaguely* remember).

I would like to predict that the Red Wings and the Caps meet in the finals, and the Wings cream the Caps again in 4 straight.

After all, a robust fantasy life is good, I've heard. Somewhere.

*sigh*

As for the Becksickle and Kathleen Parker, I'm not terribly impressed by their, um-how-shall-I-put-it, *intellectual rigor*. Ah, but to employ intellectual rigor is, indeed, elitist.

They should make a sort of Kosher hand sanitizer that makes a goy temporarily okay. Would it be offered in "extra strength?"

I just had a big bag of raw unshelled peanuts dropped off. I consider it a challenge. I am going to boil them 2 hours in saltwater with cayenne pepper and touches of miso and liquid smoke. Soak a while, and then drain and dry them on a towel before roasting them gently in the oven. I have no idea what will happen.

I am with Jim Wallis on this. Never underestimate the power of silence and the power of prayer. Warrioring at some levels requires the bigger response of restraint.

Having said this, I am very sober about what incivility-moving-toward violence our culture is now engaged in.

MLK, who studied Gandhi, said this:

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

---
Mudge you know this, dearest. But, just a reminder. Besides, perhaps the hearts to capture here are those who if they witness Beck's inhumanity and crudeness and see Wallis' response, then some fence- sitters may have scales fall from their eyes.

As a practicing Catholic, I am more than disgusted and dismayed at Beck's dribble usually and venom lately.

I just tried to tune in to the second part of the Millenium series on Swedish television, only to be told that since I'm outside of Sweden (apparently they know), I am not allowed to watch it on my computer. Never mind that I was able to watch the first part last Saturday.

*grumble, grumble*

Where's the cayenne, Jumper? Need to direct it northeastward by several thousand miles.

In an effort to Mudge myself, albeit prematurely, I suspect, then, Jumper, that the finished product will be "popped peanuts". Would Orville Redenbacher (were he still alive, although that may not be necessary ....) be interested in that?